


I'm Fine

by The_Berriest_Berry



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Best Friends, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Inspired by Music, M/M, Male Friendship, No Plot/Plotless, Platonic Cuddling, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-04-09
Packaged: 2019-04-20 10:48:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14259309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Berriest_Berry/pseuds/The_Berriest_Berry
Summary: "When you hear the phrase, “everything’s fine,” we immediately understand it as emotional shorthand. In daily life, we depend on those perfunctory clichés (hope all is well, good to hear from you, etc.) to spare ourselves from the psychological unpacking that the truth requires."If he says he's 'Fine', he's lying....





	I'm Fine

**Author's Note:**

> (Based off)  
> https://quellechris360.bandcamp.com/album/everythings-fine

He walks like he has a sort of patience about him, easy going and laid back, but he’s lost that patience a few block back and his posture has turned hunched down and forwards. The only thing that protects him is his hoodie, a shirt underneath that and his pants. But they’re soaked through, cold, and he’s lost his shoes somewhere, so he travels on, uncaring. He watches his grey socks splash through some puddles and makes a mental note to throw them out and buy some more in the morning. But for now, he hides underneath a doorway to make room on the dark side walk for the woman running past, a bag over her head. He watches her, nothing in his head, and he stalls the time being, taking out his phone, white ear buds carefully placed in his ears. The music played obnoxiously loud. 

It’s rap, but underground, not well known. If someone is interested they might ask about it, which they do (on the train), and he’ll answer, most definitely (and he does). He’ll probably carry out the conversation (which happens), in high hopes that what he’s running from now would be forgot about until he gets home (but it’s not, it’s made slightly worse).

When he gets the home the music has become a self made dissolved mess but he keeps the buds in. It’s not a song he’s particularly interested in but it does the trick for now. Out of habit he kicks off non-existent shoes and mocks himself, stripping naked. 

The room is wonderfully warm as he bends to clean up the wet clothes, hiding away in his bathroom, ignoring any sudden pain as he starts a bath. The water is too hot, but it’s better than nothing and he lays into it painfully, eyes closing as the music plays, dissolving more and more, the mood becoming more relevant to him. It doesn’t take much for fist to meet his eyes and heavy hething breaths to come alive. 

Everything is fine; if he tells himself this enough then the feeling moves into the song and dances with the slick yet out of place beat. He looks around like this place is unfamiliar, gripping the one side of the tub with white-ass knuckles and pushing on the side of the wall with the other hand until his palm is numb and pink, wrist threatening with sure certainty that it’ll break with sure combustion, not like it makes any sense to the normal man. The phone buzzes blue with a text.

He doesn’t calm down any quicker when the realization comes back, knowing the more he needs to think about the feeling is necessary in order to push it away, which is a whole another feeling of itself. He squints and a concerned moan exits through open lips and a stuck jaw. He sniffles, allows the feeling to relive itself through him before he settles down again, face beat red, buds out and a feeling of snot and mucus in the back of his throat. 

He hears a knock at his front door, and he debates answering it. A second knock and he’s leaving the water alone, determined to continue his bath, already wrapping a towel around his waist. He walks awkwardly to the door, looking through the pep hole and hurriedly unlocking the main lock. He hides behind the chain and the door.   
“Hello”  
“Hey”  
“Hi.” There’s no need for three “Hello”s but the other says it anyways. “I just wanted to see how you were... You're missing these?”  
A pair of shoes is shown and he takes them back through the crack of the door and the doorway.

“I’m fine.” He’s lying through his soul and he can tell the other man knows, judging from how he shows him the bottle of his favourite liquor, Côtes de Provences.  
“I got this for you…” He says awkwardly, and it’s the most subtle way to say ’May I come in?’ while being rejected. Maybe he already know what the conversation was to come, and- he must’ve. But he’s not falling for it. The silence it threatening.

“Please Olivier…” With a sigh the door is unchained and he’s turning away from the older man, preferring his attention to the newly made walk away. The other thanks him and steps inside awkward and he sees that, not only is he holding the wine bottle, but two wine glasses as well. He keeps this new realization down as he points to nothing on the floor.   
“You know where everything is, what to do, Gilles… Shoes off. You can make yourself at home and don’t give me that look. I’ll be back, I’m just going to finish my bath really quick, then I’ll join you.”

The other apologies for the ruined bath, but he brushes it off and continues to what he was doing previously; the buds in his ears, music lowered now normal, the water not effecting him so harshly anymore. He must’ve been there for awhile, or maybe he’s fallen asleep. He opens his eyes for a moment and the other is leaning on the side of the door, glasses of luscious pink wine in hand. 

The elder seems somewhat in a trance, but when their eyes met he looks down with a sly chuckle and stands straight, walking to the tub;  
“I don’t know what you see in this stuff… it’s too dry.”  
“Well sorry if you prefer rosé knock offs and champagne~” He’s mocking him, but he’s given the glass, after taking out the buds once more, without any type of heat or anger. Gingerly he drinks from it, raising slightly so he can perfectly take a small sip without wasting a drop. The other pokes at a bruise on his raised thigh, numbed by the burning water. 

“I should take care of this~”  
“It’s not your fault.”  
“I know, but I’ll feel bad if I don’t.”  
The water ripples between them and he feels comfort when the elder’s fingertips float atop the water.   
“How do you feel?”  
’Horrible’ “Fine, why?”  
“The way you left,” those fingers tip make circles above his waist, “So hasty… everyone went quiet when you left, did you notice?”

He shrugs and takes a sip. He prefers not talking about it yet the other man continues, watching him closely.   
“You got jumped. It wasn’t right.”  
“What I said wasn’t right.”  
“What you said was in defense.”

He returns the remark with silence and stares into the bath, that feeling coming back.   
“Olivier?”  
“I don’t want to talk about this.” The other nods, looking away but he looks back quickly.   
“But I do.” Silence is uncared for. He continues. “Olivier.”  
“But I don’t Gilles! Listen, okay, what happened~ It’s justified. What I did, it was wrong, they don’t like me.”  
“But that still doesn’t make it right.” His bruised thigh is covered with a hand. “Ollie, they bullied you, no one blames you.”

He purposely doesn’t listen yet the words enter through his ears and goes to his head. He swallows and has trouble pushing the feeling back. His hair is kissed and it takes him out of his trance. They look at each other and the other looks towards the outside wall. 

“I’m going to the kitchen if you need me. I’ll see if I can make you something for dinner. ” With that the man stands, stopped by a raised glass. He’s given a stern look, but gives in to puppy dog eyes and playful smile. The glass is taken.   
________

He comes out of his room with just a robe. Despite raining it's a nice summer nice -hot from the humidness of the air- and he plans on sleeping alone, however the other id here, not set on leaving, he’s suddenly not comfortable with his body. He takes a seat at the island that desperates the kitchen from the living room, watching the other stur the pot. He finds his glass of wine and takes a sip, waiting to get noticed. The moment that has had him so riled up when he got home is far from his mind now, but then again he had released the feeling in his hands. 

The other turns to glance quickly at him, grabs two white bowls and perfectly fills them with tomato soup.   
It’s served, along with Pena bread and homemade hummus and he sees that it’s Gustave’s recipes and he saviors the first taste, mentally cursing himself at not being able to find the strength to find what’s wrong with it (despite the heavy feud, he’s still on the train of people who believe the poor Doctor to be the best cook in the world).   
“I asked Gustave for the recipe. Don’t tell him I stole the bread and hummus~ You’d think he’d be more hesitant in giving the recipe out for you.”  
“I think he’s just sick of making it for everyone.” They laugh at the thought and eat in silence. The glasses are filled once empty and he feels sick when he suddenly remembers what has happened earlier. Suddenly, he doesn’t care to treat himself anymore. The other takes notice, switches his mind to something else carefully.   
“I wonder how Gustave will feel when he realizes that I stole some of his food…”  
“You mean it’s not mine?”  
“No, I had a bag outside your door. I’m surprised no one took it… Wonder what Julian will think when he realizes I hid the alarm clock.”  
“Don’t be mean to him!” He feels himself ripple with laughter. The feeling isn’t gone. No, but it sits besides him, enjoying some soup and laughing along, like a good friend. Tolerable. 

Everything is wrapped up and glasses are refilled when he feels it’s time that the other heads him. He’s about to help him clean up when the other gasp, a realization coming over him.   
“Your wounds!”  
“I’m fine, Gilles, really!” He laughs. He really is, though the feeling still keeps it’s humanoid persona. The other shakes his head, and when everything is cleaned up the elder gathers some supplies from around the two bed room apartment and takes a set on the couch. He motions for him to take his side, and he feels his body carry the orders. The seat is soft and the other’s legs brushes his leg. 

“Undress.”  
“Uhm…I’m naked.”  
“And I don’t care. Undress.”  
He undoes the robe, and it takes two to take it off. He feels exposed but the other settles the embarrassment. Bruises are cooled, cuts dressed, scrapes and cloth burns disinfected. He feels better, the pain he kept back inside his mind finally at rest and he is rewarded a few massages for the tight knots on his back and neck.   
“I decided to stay a little. Clean up some more and what not.”  
“That’s fine.”  
“Tired?”  
“Definitely.”  
“I could carry you.”  
He feels himself laugh.   
“No, that’s might fine, but I’m alright.” Their eyes met and there is a a sudden feeling of understanding and contentment. He laughs and drinks the rest of the wine, letting the glass be filled and wonder how he’s not drunk or tipsy yet. 

He likes the other; he’s company complementing a feeling a happiness and warmth. He feels unnaturally comfortable in his presence -something like he’s wanted- and he wonders if it’s the same for the other. 

He leans into the other, sighing, before he can get up to clean his mess. The dryness of the wine refreshes his throat and arms jokingly wraps around him. He’s pulled into a hug.   
When that’s all done he watches the other stand and carry a few things to the kitchen. He finishes the alcohol and finally feels the usual effect of tipsiness. He informs the other that he’s heading to bed, strips the robe, and climbs under cool but warm sheets, the look of them fluffy and white. 

He feels himself about to doze off, but the bed shifts behind him and an arm wraps around him.   
“Gilles!” He warns but the other laughs.   
“Relax! I’m just making sure before I leave…”  
“’Just making sure’ what?” There’s a pause.  
“You’re comfortable. That’s all.”

He feels heat that’s not from the wine and a shy smile comes over him. That humanoid figure sits on the bed in front of him, to remind him of why his friend is really here and what has happened today, but it doesn’t not dwindle him.   
“I’m comfortable.”  
“I bet,” a laugh is shared, “but I mean mentally.”  
It’s awkward, and he shifts slightly under his friend.  
“I am.”  
“I know you’re not.” He corrects and his eyes become little ponds. “You weren’t alright when you left. And I just want to make sure that you understand that it wasn’t you’re fault.”  
“I do.”  
“You don’t and you know it!” He looks at him, stern written all over him, on his face, on his voice, on his aura. “Just tell me what you think.”  
“What I think?”

“Hmmm.”  
“I think it happened on purpose. Like everyone wanted it to happen. Like they made sure it was my fault and that they baited me and I took the bait.”  
“But that’s not how it went down.” He looks at the older man, eyes wiped by fingers of which he did not own. “No one wanted it. We tried making it stop but when it escalated we didn’t know what to do. And after you left we defended up~ hell! Mostly Mike and Dominick defended you. Even Gustave defended you for Pete’s Sake! And if that doesn’t say anything then I don’t know what does!”  
“You guys… stood up for me?”  
“You can ask them tomorrow if you don’t believe me.” 

He feels the humanoid oddity of what is the feeling that’s been nipping and biting at him the whole night leave, going off to find a new victim for the night. He doesn’t mean, to but he sobs at the disappearance of what he thought was his new friend for the night. His eyes meet the space of the elder’s shoulder and neck, and his held until he smiles at the other man, thanking him and turning away to sleep. 

But the man doesn’t leave, even when it’s for certainty that he’s changed his opinion of the night.  
“I thought you were heading home?”  
“I want to stay.”  
“For the night?”  
“For the night. May I sleep under the covers with you?”  
“Gilles I’m naked!”  
“And I’ve already seen you naked.” He says climbing in, holding the other close.  
“How are you now?”  
“I’m Fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> (Others Albums)  
> https://miloraps.bandcamp.com/album/who-told-you-to-think  
> http://awonandphoniks.com/album/the-actual-proof  
> https://miloraps.bandcamp.com/album/so-the-flies-dont-come


End file.
